


Good Business

by BlueOnyx



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies), Jurassic Park III (2001)
Genre: Blow Jobs, D/s undertones, Established Relationship, Facials, M/M, Missing Scene, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, almost getting caught, anyway this is all I can think of when I watch the resonating chamber blowjob scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:51:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20813165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueOnyx/pseuds/BlueOnyx
Summary: It wasn't so much a threat as it was a promise—Alan's promise to answer the taunt of Billy's smug stare and challenging stance.





	Good Business

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tagging this with 'Almost Getting Caught' as a heads up for anyone who might want to steer clear of that type of stress altogether, but I want to emphasize that they _do not actually_ get 'caught', only slightly interrupted at the very end, after they're pretty much done.

Alan was rooted to the spot until Mr. Kirby had disappeared into his SUV and driven off up the dirt road out of the dig site, heading back to his motel in Jordan. The details for the evening had been worked out—reluctantly on Alan's part, Billy was well aware—and they'd ended up suggesting their usual haunt, the best place in town to get dinner. Alan would be more comfortable on familiar ground, anyway.

Fresh dust drifted through the air as Alan turned his attention towards Billy again, that same half-mad expression twisting up his lips. A finger rose, jabbing in Billy's direction, but there was no real menace behind it. "I'm going to go clean up, and when I get back. . . then we'll see."

It wasn't so much a threat as it was a promise—Alan's promise to answer the taunt of Billy's smug stare and challenging stance. Billy was eager to see what he had in mind.

It'd been almost two weeks since Alan had left for the lecture tour, but his success from it, or lack thereof, was only the second thing on Billy's mind. Alan's absences were always the worst part of the summer, and the phone calls each night—for dig updates, and sometimes a little more—were never good enough. Nothing came close to actually having Alan back in his sight, whole and real and _here_, his presence imposing and thrilling.

The donations didn't sound forthcoming, but maybe that was for the better, in this case. Maybe it would make Alan open to Mr. Kirby's offer, because even if it turned out to be unpleasant, the alternative funding route was looking more and more necessary. Maybe it would mean a contribution large enough that Alan wouldn't need to beg for the relative pittance they got from the lectures, at least for a while.

Alan stepped out from the trailer, his coat gone but his hat still stuck on his head. He looked down at the ground as he approached Billy, not acknowledging him until he finally paused and motioned with two lazy fingers for Billy to join him. Billy glanced back into the computer tent as they passed by, at Dan still sitting in front of the monitor, and then at the plastic resonating chamber Alan had put down on the table after Mr. Kirby had startled him.  
  
They crossed the rest of the camp in silence, ending up in the large cataloging tent at the edge of their operations. It was empty of students, away from the bustling majority, and an unlikely spot to be intruded upon—most cataloging was done in the off hours and on rainy days, and the kids were currently burning good daylight.

Alan let down the entrance flap, firmly tying it shut. He regarded Billy, a calculating stare below the brim of his hat. "Billy. You know better than to surprise me with strangers. Remember last time?"

"This is nothing like _last time_, Alan." Billy propped himself lightly against a foldable table stacked with small crates. "He wants to hire you for something. And that means money. A lot of it, probably."

Alan nodded with a sour understanding. "Money." His fists were on his hips, and he was looking at the ground again. _Uh-oh_.

If it was an apology Alan wanted from him, he wasn't going to get it that easily. Billy clapped his hands against his thighs and stood up straight, taking a step toward Alan. "Come on, Alan. What was I supposed to say? 'No'? It's just good business."

Alan met him the rest of the way, and stiffened up to his full height. "You aren't working on a career in business, Billy, remember? _Paleontology_ ring any bells?"

"Alan." Billy swallowed hard and lowered his voice, darting his eyes up to meet Alan's. "We need this. _The dig_."

Alan wet his lips and looked toward the other end of the tent. ". . . I know." He moved away from Billy, browsing the labeled fossils strewn out on the longest table.

"It'll be fine," he called after him.

"I'd hold off on making statements like that just yet." Alan picked up a vertebra fragment that had yet to find its way into a crate, but put it back down almost immediately. "Did this Mr. Kirby tell you anything else about it?"

Billy had tried to extract that information, unsuccessfully, when Mr. Kirby had shown up at the dig the previous day, asking around for Dr. Grant but directed to Billy in his absence. "No, he's waiting to explain it to you in person. But it can't be _that_ bad, whatever it is."

Alan smiled wryly. "Oh, you'd be surprised at what rich people can get their asses stuck in." He sauntered back in front of Billy. "Or maybe you wouldn't be surprised. I just don't want _mine_ stuck in anything."

The opportunity fell so beautifully into Billy's hands, he had to take it. Grinning, he whispered with a put-on gruffness, "Yeah, you're the only one allowed to get asses sticky around here."

Alan laughed, a soft sound that immediately lightened the atmosphere. "Maybe so. . ." he began, stepping forward to close the gap between them. He reached out to Billy's waist and ran his thumbs along the sides of his abdomen, before sliding his hands down to grip Billy's ass and squeeze it. "But your little demonstration earlier got me thinking about how good your lips always look around my cock."

Billy pushed back into the feeling of Alan's strong hands, fitting so right in their place. "Well, that was the idea."

"Oh?" Alan pulled their hips together. Billy could feel Alan's hardening cock against his own. "Not to show off your invention?"

It was all Billy could do to keep himself from grinding as he tried to focus on their conversation. "I thought I showed it off pretty well," he strained.

Alan leaned in, lightly nipping at Billy's neck just below his left ear. "I meant in a more scientific manner," he whispered, hot breath rolling over Billy's skin, making his cock twitch.

"Mmh, there's a science to everything." Billy grabbed the base of Alan's head below his hat with one hand and his cheek with the other and pulled him back around into a desperate kiss, pouring all of his pent-up want into it. He kissed and licked and dragged his teeth along Alan's jaw, let his fingers wander down to whatever he could touch of Alan's arms, his chest, his back, grabbing at the soft flannel and everything underneath it. _He's here_.

Billy felt Alan buck forward against him once before Alan withdrew himself, hands abandoning Billy's ass to capture his wrists. The only thing Alan let Billy do was kiss him, which was an inch Billy gladly turned into a mile.

"Are you _mad_, Alan?" he asked, in between sloppy kisses and ragged breaths. "I went over. . . your _head_. . . after all."

Alan tilted his head back, letting Billy run his tongue down his neck and close his mouth over Alan's collarbone, almost daring to use enough pressure to mark him. "Yeah, you did, and I am."

Billy could feel the vibrations in Alan's chest as he spoke, the sensation driving him further into his desperation. "_How_ mad, Alan?"

"Pretty mad." Alan's voice was calm and controlled as he said it—there wasn't a trace of true anger in him. His hands slipped away from Billy's wrists.

Billy pulled back and their eyes locked. "Show me."

Alan gripped Billy's shoulders and let gravity do most of the work as Billy pliantly dropped to his knees. Billy looked up through his eyelashes, waiting for Alan to make the next move.

After a moment of contemplation, Alan undid his pants slowly, revealing his cock, almost fully hard. He stroked it with one hand, precome welling at the tip, and reached out with the other to run his fingers through Billy's humid curls. "Suck," he instructed. "And don't touch yourself."

Billy was suddenly aware of how hard he'd gotten, but he didn't mind the lack of attention just yet—he was only focused on one thing, what he had been waiting for all week. He exchanged the hand on Alan's cock with his own, giving it a few slow pumps as he watched Alan, who drew a sharp breath and closed his eyes at the touch.

He'd lost count of how many times he'd done this particular movement now, but it never failed to thrill him and get his heart hammering to feel himself guide Alan's cock into his mouth and close his lips around it, to pull it in and feel it heavy and solid in his mouth, to breathe in deeply and taste him on his tongue.

True to his word, Alan had freshened up when he'd ducked into the trailer earlier. Billy felt a swoop of gratification, knowing that this was clearly what Alan had in mind after seeing his performance.

God, he tasted like _Alan_, anyway, and the familiar scent was still coming through enough to make his head spin. Billy closed his eyes and took a few slow, shallow bobs to start with, then took him in deeper for a turn. The angle of Alan's fingers in his hair sharpened, and Billy felt the light drag of his calloused fingertips along his scalp, causing him to shiver.

He pulled off for a breath to recover and his own fingers moved down to Alan's balls, rubbing over them lightly with his thumb as he dived down near the base of Alan's cock to draw his tongue up flat along the vein. Alan let out a restrained moan and gripped Billy's hair into his fist, so Billy did that again, and again, before refocusing on the head. He swirled his tongue around, flexing it tighter at the tip for a second, then taking the length into his mouth as far as it would go and swallowing around him, and back out, finally reestablishing a rhythm and sucking with intent.

Billy's free left hand, which had been clamped over his own thigh tightly, reached up towards Alan, wandering to find something else to hold onto, dragging Alan's pants down a bit further and sliding in to grip Alan's hip beneath his shirt.

Alan moaned again, this time louder, and with a bolt of heat to his cock Billy thought of what Dr. Alan Grant would look like to someone walking in on them, and another, thinking of how he was the cause of Alan's state. _I get to see him like this. I get to _make_ him like this_.

Alan was now trying steer his head away. "_Billy_," Alan warned, breathless.

He looked up to see Alan gazing down at him. Maintaining eye contact, he gave one last hard suck at the tip and let go. Alan took his cock into his own hands and started tugging with purpose.

Billy sat back on his heels, tilting his chin up slightly and making himself a target. "Do it, Alan. _Please_," he begged before letting his mouth fall open, waiting.

Eyes hooded and burning with determination, Alan aimed his cock, pumped a few more times, and came, releasing his load onto Billy's face.

Most of it landed in his mouth, some on his cheeks, and a little splattered over his quickly shut eyelids. Billy sat still for a moment, trying not to come in his pants at just the feeling of it, hot and thick on his skin. He swallowed and licked his lips and trailed a finger over his eyelids, finally opening them to see Alan breathing hard with his flagging cock still in his hand. Billy leaned forward, taking it in his mouth again and cleaning off the come that had dribbled from the tip.

Alan looked down in wonder. "The things you do to me, Mr. Brennan."

"Yeah? Did I do good, Dr. Grant?" he asked, knowing the answer as he licked his lips again and wiped away the remaining come on his cheeks with the back of his hand. Whitish flecks still clung to his eyelashes, caught in his line of sight as he gazed at Alan.

Alan reached a hand down under Billy's chin, coaxing him back up. He drew him into a long kiss, and brushed his thumb across Billy's cheek to wipe away another speck. "So good."

"Still mad enough that you won't, uh. . . return the favor?" Billy asked lightly, pulling away. He was still hard, losing patience quickly, and if Alan wasn't actually going to help him, he'd just have to help himself.

Alan tucked his cock away and zipped up. The corner of his mouth twitched in consideration. "Hm."

With that, all of Billy's patience evaporated. "Fuck! Just blow me already, Alan. We'll sort it out later."

Alan took the demand in stride, smirking as he placed a hand on Billy's chest and pushed him slowly backwards. Billy's thighs hit the edge of a table and he fell across the rest of it. His shoulder knocked into the corner of a cardboard box, and it fell to the ground with a hollow _puff_.

Alan lifted his hat off and set it on the lid of a crate, leaving his hair mussed with a few strands falling across his forehead. The indirect sunlight through the tent had an incredible effect—his skin was gently lit, his wide blown eyes clearly burning with want, and Billy was sure Alan had never looked hotter.

He leaned forward over him, one hand braced on Billy's chest and the other freeing Billy's aching cock. Alan gripped it lightly, hints of pressure in his fingers as they ran along the length before they tightened firmly at the base.

Alan lowered his mouth around Billy's cock, as far down as it would go, and bobbed back up. "God, yes," Billy let out, with something like relief. _God, yes, look at him do that_. The loose strands of his hair fell on his own hand each time he went down. "Alan, you're amazing, you're just. . . you—you were gone so long, Alan. So long—and I was just _waiting_ for you to come back—" He shut up when a sharp flick of Alan's tongue over the head made him buck up and hiss. "_Fuck_."

Alan shifted his weight and let Billy's cock slide out of his mouth, the steady rhythm almost seamlessly maintained when both his hands took over. Spit and precome slipped between the surfaces of skin, Alan's skilled movements bringing Billy close to the edge. "We could continue this in the trailer, if you want. Take our time," he suggested, his voice cool and melodic.

It took a little too long for Alan's words to filter through into his brain, and once they did, his mind's eye was filled with all the times they had done just that, Alan thrusting slowly inside him, sweaty skin against sweaty skin, careful attention he didn't quite know how to make sense of other than the possibility that maybe Alan _loved_ him. . .

"I won't make it that far, I'm already—ah—" The tip of his cock erupted, pulsing and spilling all over Alan's hands as Billy bucked up roughly to ride it through. "Mmh, Alan, _god you're so_—"

Footsteps were suddenly on the other side of the tent flap. They both froze in place, Alan still gripping Billy's cock in all its mess and leaving a very difficult situation to explain to whoever it was if they tried to open the flap. Simple, obvious, but difficult.

"Billy? Dr. Grant? Are you in there?"

It was Dan. He must have finished up and wondered where they'd gone. Entirely Billy's fault, he should have given him further instructions about the printer while he'd been waiting for Alan to come out of the trailer.

A calculated decision—mutually conveyed through held breath and an instant glance—they didn't reply. After a beat, they heard Dan's retreating steps.

Billy laughed softly, mostly through his nose. "Maybe we _should_ stick to the trailer." The central location and thin walls almost always meant stealthy, gentle movements, but at least there was a locked door. Not that Billy was really complaining—the danger of getting caught left him more exhilarated than he'd felt in a while.

Alan let out his breath and slowly shook his head in disapproval, though his eyes were crinkled and a slight smile played on his lips. He dug out a handkerchief from his pocket with his cleaner hand, and wiped Billy up before working it through the rest of his own fingers and then folding it tightly and slipping it back in. Billy zipped himself up, getting off the table and retrieving the cardboard box he'd knocked over.

His hat on again, Alan was already untying the tent flap. "Come on, we should get cleaned up properly if we're going out tonight." He still didn't sound very happy about it. If Alan ended up not liking what Mr. Kirby had to say, if it was all a waste of time, his bad mood would probably plague the camp for a week, at least. And definitely not the kind of mood where Billy found himself on his knees in the cataloging tent, either.

It was a risk he was willing to take. "Alan. Tell me you'll at least listen to the offer. Whatever it is. And if it doesn't seem worth it, we don't have to do it. Tell me."

Halfway out of the tent, Alan turned back with a sharp look that softened as soon as their eyes met. "Okay, Billy. I'll listen."

**______________**

**Author's Note:**

> I'd been sitting on this fic—more or less complete—for longer than I care to admit, since it never really seemed like the right time to post it, idk. I've been getting things done now, though, so! Anyway, Computer Dan is the name we arrived at in [this classic post](https://bisexual-paleontologists.tumblr.com/post/136631841108/morethanonepage-fumbles-mcstupid) for the poor bastard in the 3-D printer scene manning the computer you might not have noticed amidst the brazenness of the movie's cinematography, who had to witness, _right in front of his salad_, that sexually-charged interaction between Billy and Dr. Grant. He should've know better than to try to go find them after all that, though.


End file.
